Tuesday, June 2, 2009

DATING COMMANDMENTS


After many bad relationships and far too much wasted time, I decided that in order to alleviate some of the problems that I was facing in my quest for love, I needed to be clear about my expectations. Take me or leave me. These are my commandments:

1. My body is my temple—don’t violate me—I don't do love triangles—really, I share few things in life...a penis is not one.

2. “Are you involve with anyone?” encompasses being married, having sex, or partaking in any kind of intimacy with another person, i.e. kissing, fondling, oral sex, making promises, in my book, constitutes being involved. Just ask the other party—most I’m sure would agree with me.

3. I don’t take prisoners—if at any time you want to leave, go. I want you only if you want to be here.

4. If I tell you I want to leave you, take it like a man—tell me to hit the road.

5. In public you must treat me like a lady. In private, I’m your whore—it’s the only time I will give up control.

6. Keep sex interesting—be creative—I don’t have a problem swinging from the chandelier, going shopping for a vibrator, watching porn or dressing up like Xena, Warrior Princess.

7. Who do you want me to be?

8. Make me laugh—tell me I’m beautiful—treat me like a princess sometimes.

9. I throw tantrums—deal with it.

10. You have an obligation to take care of yourself for me. If you get fat and sloppy and won’t do anything about it, I will leave you.

11. I have commitment issues. Make sure I’m really into you before you ask me to marry you so you won’t be embarrassed when I say no.

12. I’ll be your rock and your shield--I want you to be the best that you can be. How can I help you attain your dreams? 13. You don’t have to rich—but ambition is a requirement.

14. You must be intelligent—I like a man who has something to say.

15. You must be of strong character—if you’re weak—I’ll walk all over you.

16. Don’t lie to me—If you do I will know—and I will leave you.

17. At some point I may challenge you to a sword fight.

18. I am a mother—if you don’t like or want kids that’s okay, but there’s no place in my life for you.

19. Don’t talk on the phone when you’re on a date with me unless it’s absolutely necessary.

20. Hold my hand when we’re crossing the street—I'm a hopeful romantic. That little show of affection will melt my heart.

21. Don’t flirt with other women when you’re with me—it’s disrespectful.

22. I know who I am—I don’t need you to define me.

23. You can hurt me but you cannot destroy me—that’s why I’m not afraid to love and give my all to you.

24. I don't bring past baggage to a new relationship—I am a new woman for you. The same is required of you. Please leave your shit at the door. 25. If you’re breaking up with me—you can tell me—I won’t flip-out, stalk, harass, or try to kill you—really, I’ll just find someone else.

26. Brush your teeth.

27. I've never had a wasteful relationship. I always leave with something—a thrilling sexual experience or a new insight.

29. Show me you care or I'll think you don't.

30. I don't care if you have tattoos.

31. Depression diminishes me—I don't do it.

32. I don’t feed negativity—

33. When I'm upset I shop Victoria Secret and listen to Nina Simone.

34. I promise to keep you guessing, and thinking…


35. Now, how can I be of service to you?

TRUTH OR DARE?


“Truth or dare?” I asked rubbing my naked body seductively against B’s back. My nipples hardened to the feel of his warmth against me. I ran my legs up and down his bare leg, and sunk my pedicure toenails teasingly into his flesh.

“Someone wants to get fucked,” he said.

I threw one leg over him and pressed my shaved pussy against his ass.

“You slut,”

“Say it again,” I whispered into his ear while rubbing my shaved pussy provocatively against his ass. The slow deliberate way in which I moved stimulated my aching clit.

I grabbed his cock and squeezed. It throbbed hard and hungry in my hands.

“Dare,” he said.

“I dare you to tell me about a sexual fantasy you have of me,” I said still holding his cock, still squeezing it.

What will I get for such a revelation?”

“A wet, warm, tight, hungry pussy to do with as you please,” I said.

“Throw in a nice tight ass and you have a deal,”

“Deal,” I said.

“God damn, woman,” he growled grabbing and squeezing one tender, horny tit. My pussy though still sore from the night before, was throbbing to get fucked again.

“What’s your fantasy?” I asked again.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Will you make it come through?” he asked turning me over onto my back and spreading my legs.

His fingers searching the folds of my slippery pussy. One finger delved inside me. I arched my back and opened wider for him. His lips joined his fingers and lust ravaged my mind.

“I dare you to agree to fulfill my fantasy without knowing what you’re agreeing to. And once you agree, beautiful Erotica, you cannot back out,”

“Deal,” I said.

His finger was moving hungrily inside me now. I threw back my head, and my breast jiggled ever so slightly with each thrust. I imagined his cock ramming all the way up inside me, venturing to new places, touching the silken walls of innocent flesh, and making them innocent no more.

I wanted to be his sex-slave. If he put chains around my neck, I would gladly wear them.
I would bow to him and call him master.

“I want to see you do another battle,”

“That’s all?” I asked.

“No. I want you naked, wearing only your mask,”

“Not a problem,” I said. I was writhing and moaning so hard his tongue had to work hard to keep up with me.

“I want to listen to you order her to remove her clothing. I want you to turn her into a whore as I will soon make a whore of you,”

“Make a whore of me, baby” I said.

He stopped sucking and stared at me beneath him. My legs were spread to capacity, my pussy lips parted like the unfolding of a rose. My clit was rigid and aching and begging for more.

“Whose pretty pussy is this?” he asked

“It’s your pussy, baby. It’s all yours.”

“And I can fuck it any way I want, right?”

“Anyway you want it. Anyhow you want it. Anytime you want it,” I said.

He mounted and claimed me with full possessiveness. I clung to him and welcome the full force of his ownership on my body. I screamed as thrust after thrust jolted and shook me.

“Are you going to fuck her for me the way I’m fucking you right now?” he said grinding hard inside me.

“Yes,” I screamed. “Yes, yes,” I couldn’t get enough. I wanted him harder and deeper.

“Lift your knees, and pull your legs all the way back,” he ordered.I hurried to do his bidding, just like a good little slut would, and he fucked me without reserve. My raised ass was slamming into the bed with every thrust. He was fucking me so hard, the pain was scorching, and I found myself backing away from the full force of him.

“Stop running and take your dick. You wanted dick, you’re getting dick,” he said. “Get on your knees. I want to fuck you from behind.,”

I didn’t move right away and he slapped my thigh.

I slapped him back.

“I’m going to beat your ass,” he said.

I giggled.

I got on all fours and hoisted my ass for him. He poured oil on me and slapped me. “Who are you” he demanded.

“Your whore,” I said.

“Then what the fuck is MY whore doing hitting back?”

I didn’t answer. I’m going to have to fuck you in the ass and teach you a lesson,”

He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. My ass was high and ready. If this was punishment, I was going to be bad every god damn time. I’ve been longing to do it again.
The initial pain sent chills through me, yet I accepted the intrusion as if I needed it. And I did, for beyond the pain, I knew that pleasure was waiting for me.

“Relax,” he said, running his fingers down my back. Then he was inside me all the way, slowly at first and then without reserve. He grabbed my hips and filled me. I threw back my head and howled. I held him tightly, forcing him to move harder and faster inside me. Begging him to give me all he had. I could take it.
Sounds of passion rumbled between us.
Sounds of lust and desire
Sounds of being a whore. Sounds of accepting who I was to him
Sound of losing all inhibitions.
He kept fucking me.
I kept screaming and jerking and shivering. My hips moved to his rhythm.
My pussy remained wet and wanting—it will never be satisfied.

“Will you let me watch you?” he asked, his voice breaking with the strain to control himself.
I didn’t answer.

“Will you?” he rammed harder, sending another wave of pleasure ricocheting through my body.
How is it that with all the pain, I could not get enough?
How is it that even though it felt he’d been fucking me for hours, I was still hungry for more?
His thrusts knocked me flat onto my stomach. He kept pounding into my greedy aching ass, breaking me and himself. I lay thrashing and screaming beneath him as he filled my ass with cum.

Sunday, May 31, 2009

THE PERFECT LIFE


I was walking into the gym, she was leaving. We looked at each other. Aha! We smile and meet each other halfway. We hugged. We used to be friends but a disastrous love affair with her brother Stephen brought our freindship to a harsh and bitter end.

Stephen was a controlling nut-job who wanted to tell me where I could and couldn't go, who I could and couldn't be freinds with, he wanted to know why my toenails were painted pink for fucks sake. I left him faster than my shamefully short marriage. He ended up stalking me and threatening to commit suicide. I told him to go right ahead. His family blamed me for his madness. It turns out that Stephen was a "nice guy" before he met me.

This article is not about Stephen. It's about Emily.

The reason I didn't recognize Emily at first is because Emily did not look like the Emily I used to know. Emily used to be beautiful and graceful and playful. She was sexy and happy and confident. She laughed a lot. Her friends envied her. Everyone thought that Emily had "the perfect life"

She was married to a physician she referred to as "the man of her dreams" they'd just bought a mansion in an upscale neighborhood and she was pregnant with their first child.

Yes. Emily's life looked on track to perfection. She was doing it the way it's "supposed" to be done.

Yet one look at Emily tells me that she was falling apart. She'd packed on over fifty pounds. Her glow was gone. Her gym clothes were stained. Her eyes empty, skin pale and her once luscious hair was thinnning. Emily looked twice her age and a broken shell of the woman I used to know.

"How are you, Erotica?" She said smiling seeming genuinely happy to see me.

"I'm doing well," I said.

"And you?"

She hesitated before answering. "Things are ok," she said looking at the ground.

"How's Ben?" I asked.

"Things didn't work out," she said.

I wanted to ask, "What happened Emily? How did you get beaten down like this? Where did your glow go--your sexiness, confidence, happiness?

Where did it all go?

"It's good seeing you," I said. "We should get together and catch up,"

"I would like that," she said.

We exchanged contact information and went about our day. But I couldn't stop thinking about her.

It may not seem as if I have all of my ducks lined up in perfect order. It may not seem as if I'm where I'm "supposed" to be, doing what I'm "supposed" to be doing with my life. I'm divorced. I'm a single mother. I tumble from one failed relationship after another. But I feel as if I'm standing on solid ground. Life's journey is not a straight line. Even the best laid plans can and do fall apart.

Everything is transient.

Everything.

I'm right where I need to be. And that's because I live life by my rules. I'm happy and healthy and I'm aware. I'm sexy and confident. I'm funny. I laugh a lot everyday.

I see my friends, family, acquaintances stressing out trying to live the life they're told they should be living, and not living the life they have. And I can't help but wonder, whose fairytale are we living in?

They think that they need to be married and have children and a big house and this and that and the other to be happy and whole, and when they get those things, it turns out that this is not the fairytale that they thought it would be.

When the husband who defined Emily was gone, she fell apart.

What do we think happens after college, marriage, house, kids? Do we stop playing the game?
The game is never over. It's just getting interesgting. There are twists and turns and bumps in the road that remains to be seen. None of us know what we'll find when we turn the corner. I do not put much credence into how it's "supposed" to be. I prefer to focus on who I am and how I can be better.

I don't know how or why Emily's seemingly on track perfect life fell apart. I know to be aware of the bumps in the road.

And as I drove home, I couldn't help thinking about her and cheering her on. What defines us is not how far or how hard we fall, it's how well we get back up. We all have one more fight left in us.

We can all get back up, one more time.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

BEFORE DAYBREAK


Before daybreakI will be gone...
Before the dust settles
And memories of me fades away
Before you are ready to let go
I will be gone

Don't cry for me
I am not yours to keep
Letting go
Is life’s constant that no one can escape
Your love will not last forever
That's only a story we are told
A fairytale...

Take me right now
While I lay wanton and wanting in your arms
While your scent still perfumes my flesh
The taste of you lingers on my lips
And my cunt overflows with desire

This moment is all I have to give you
Kiss me like I’m the fading embers of bliss
Fuck me like I'm the last taste of pleasure
Explore me like I‘m the last touch...

Before daybreak
I will be gone.

LOVE IS FICKLE


There was a time when I felt I loved my now ex-husband.

I would've torn apart any woman dare who threaten my happiness. I hated his ex-girlfriends for the moments they had with him. I wanted everything from him. Everything. Every drop of blood, every heartbeat, every thrust he'd ever taken and will ever take. I was young. I didn’t know that one day I would stand poise and ready to sell him for pennies. Here I am sixteen years later, and I don’t even remember loving him.

I felt that I loved CX too. When I found out that he cheated on me and was plotting to kill me, I suffered unimaginable pain. I felt as if I would die. My tears fall endlessly. Now, I would gladly give him away to anyone who will have him.

I thought I loved a lot of men or at least felt deeply for them to the point where I didn’t want anyone else to have them.

In the later part of my relationship with Nick, I started resenting his ex-wife. I resented her for having his children. I wanted to have his children. Resented that she used to be his wife.

I had a lot of meaningless hatred going on. I also knew that my anger and resentment of this woman was misplaced.

My anger had nothing to do with her. It was Nick and I. We were falling apart. He was slipping though my fingers. We weren’t strong enough to make it. I knew all this but when I blew up at him, none of these things came out. I sounded like an insane woman asking what the fuck is this? Are you and your ex-wife getting back together? Why can’t you say no to her?

He would look at me as if I had lost my mind. And yes, as sure as the sun shines bright on a cloudless day, I had lost my damn mind. There is a possessive element to love. There's a certain degree of madness and irrationality to love.

Today, I stopped by his house to grab the last of my belongings. His ex-wife was dropping off one of their sons to get something from inside.

I bumped into her in the driveway with a box of clothing in my hand.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hello,” She answered.

“I’m Erotica,”

“I know. I’m Sarah. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

I stood there awkward, not sure what else to say.

“That green looks great with your skin tone,” I finally said.

I was taught that when at a loss for words, compliment. Everyone likes a compliment.

She smiled. “Thank you,”

And as if we’re playing the same damn game, “I didn’t realize that you were so young,”

“Yes,” I said. Lifting my head high and flashing her a big bright smile.

And knowing that there was nothing else left to say, I bid her farewell and walk away.

I realized something...even if Nick got back with her, I wouldn’t care.
It was never her. It was not even him.

Love is fickle.

We get into trouble when we convince ourselves that the one we’re with is the only one for us even if they treat us like crap. What we fail to realize is that we can love over and over and over again. How did we get so brainwashed? I don't know. Whose fairytale are we living in? I don't know that either.

Love is fickle.

Now when a relationship ends, I think back to my ex-husband and the large field of men who came after him. And I know that everything is going to be all right.

Where are all these men now and what do they all have in common?

They all live in the same old house on the hill. All on the same long list of men I used to love.

THE THREESOME


Eric and I were sitting around sipping tea. Staring out the window and listening to classical music. Occasionally his two talking parrots shriek hello and would fly over to sit on his shoulder.

We were discussing the work of Ayn Rand who happens to be one of my favorite author.
The doorbell rang and Eric got up to answer. In walked a woman who Eric introduced as Karina. He told me that he wasn't seeing anyone so I assumed she was just a friend.

Karina is not beautiful in the classical sense…but there was something striking about her. She was dressed in an old pair of men’s jeans that swallowed her petite frame, a white shirt that looked as if it belonged to her boyfriend, and an old pair of converse. But the way her black hair settled about her shoulders, the way her lips pout, the way she sat…was so feminine I couldn’t help watching her.

Eric sat back down and we continued talking about Ayn Rand. Karina listened but showed no interest in the conversation. After a while, she went over to sit on his lap and started kissing him. He kept talking about Ayn Rand all through her kisses.

I got up to leave. Karina had taken off her shirt and was stepping out of her man pants. I stare at her tits. A mere mouthful but with thick luscious nipples.

“You don’t have to leave,” Eric said. We are going to have “the sex” would you like to join us?

I stare at him. “What? No,"

"Why not? Have you ever had a threesome?"

"No. But..."

"Then why not?" he said.

I just stood there.

Karina had fallen to her knees wearing only an itsy bitsy white thong and was unzipping his pants.

Her ass is small but lovely and I stare at her thinking this is fucking hot. I wanted to get the hell out of there but find myself unable to leave.

“He’s not my boyfriend,“ Karina said. “We just have sex. If you don’t want to join us, you can just watch,”

I stare at both of them staring back at me. And instead of hightailing it out of there, I sat down with my legs crossed tight to ease the throbbing between my legs.

She took Eric’s cock in her mouth. Watching me as she sucked it slowly. I didn’t care about Eric’s cock. It was her lips…that made me ache. The look in the eyes that made me tremble. They kept inviting me to join them, and damn, I was tempted. Tempted like I’ve never been before or since to indulge in this sinful treat. I wanted to touch and taste too…Karina.

Eric ate Karina’s pussy and then fuck her right in front of me. The sight of his cock abusing her little pussy made me want to suck her screams for her lips. I watch. Transfixed. Torn between temptation and surrender. Her moans, the way she writhe beneath him, her small hands clutching his ass, the way she begged and begged for more as she watched me watching her…was pure torture.

I got up and left.

“Is there a sexual experience you regret having or not having?” That‘s the question Alan asked me today.

That day with Eric and Karina came to mind. I don't know if I regret not joining them. I’ve always thought of it as the threesome I never had. But I did have front row seat.